It's Never Over
by The Last True Hero
Summary: For the last four years, I've been running. Now it's time to stop.
1. The Greatest Love Story Never Told

_**Disclaimer: **__Fanfiction is allowed under the Copyright Act of 1978, as it comes under fair use for purposes such as comment, criticism and entertainment without intent for profit. Harry Potter and all other copyrighted properties utilised in this story belong to their respective owners. This applies to all content in this story._

_**A/N: **__Well, Here's the Broken Miracle, version 2. Hopefully it'll work out better than my last attempt. This is basically the second half of what the original would've been, but instead follows on from the canon, rather than the garbled mess I tried to make. It could technically fit into the events prior to the epilogue, If I keep myself more or less right._

* * *

_**It's Never Over**_

_Chapter One – The Greatest Love Story Never Told_

_"Running away will never make you free."_

_~ Kenny Loggins_

Harry sighed as Ron, Hermione and himself exited the Headmaster's office. The gargoyle still lay drunkenly to the side, and the adjacent hallways were covered in dust and rubble from collapsing ceilings and half a dozen duels. A calm silence permeated the air, as if the castle was sleeping in well-earned exhaustion.

Voldemort was dead, along with the majority of his forces; so many people he had once known were also dead, having died in the climactic final battle. Fred, Remus, Tonks. How many others? He didn't know. Didn't _want_ to know, but knew he would have to learn the fates of a dozen plus dead friends by the day's end. Although he felt understandably saddened by their deaths, and he mourned them, but he didn't feel that a part of him was missing, as he had with Sirius' death. Something in him had changed. An acceptance that death was inevitable; and that those who died went to a better place. _Death is but the next great adventure._

Harry was bruised, and battered, and covered in dirt and blood. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, or to eat, but he knew that there was one last matter to attend to before he could slip into sleep's warm embrace, one last loose matter to attend to. Ginny.

Eventually, after a dozen detours due to the destruction rendering old paths ineffective, they managed to reach the Great Hall, its doors blasted off in the battle. Inside was what was left of the survivors. Weary joy and grim satisfaction at the events of earlier permeated the Hall, a sense of victory and freedom from a Dark Lord's oppression. When they entered, it turned to a feeling of awe and expectation rippling across the hall with almost-alive intent.

Harry didn't care. There was only one thought on his mind now; a girl with vibrant red hair and exhausted, red-rimmed brown eyes. And there she was, sat with her family, dirty and battered like the rest of them. His heart leapt instantly and he realised he didn't have a clue what he was going to say.

They approached the red-head group tentatively. Ron went to hug his parents, and Hermione soon follow. Ginny stared downwards, unmoving, seemingly unaware that anyone had approached.

Carefully, gently, Harry leaned towards her and placed a tired hand on her shoulder. "Ginny?" He murmured. "Can I talk to you?"

She didn't reply, but nevertheless allowed herself to be steered away from her family. A few of them nodded in acceptance and encouragement. I lead her out of the Great Hall, under the stares of the others; some interested, some sympathetic, others uncaring.

We stopped in the Entrance Hall. There was ruin here too; most of the staircase had collapsed, the ceiling had buckled in places leaving chunks of stone across the floor.

"Ginny?" I asked quietly, waiting for some sort of response. Nothing. "Are you alright?"

Ginny breathed out a shaky sigh, before sadly speaking. "I just lost a brother and so many friends? What do you think?"

He winced at the angry tone she had used. It was a stupid question. "I'm sorry." He said honestly. He started to have second thoughts, and was about to make excuses when Ginny spoke again.

"What do you want, Harry?"

Harry mulled over that for a second, trying to find the best words to fit. "A life with you." He said, after an age. Then Ginny didn't something he hadn't been expecting. She laughed.

"What; you just break up with me then think we can go back together? Just like that?" She snapped her fingers at _"that"_ for added emphasis.

Harry gaped at her. "I…"

"Do you have any _idea_ what you put me through?" Ginny demanded. "Every day; every _day_ I was wracked with fear and nightmares. Every bloody day I had to wait to see if someone had killed you! Do you know what that's like?"

Harry hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry."

"Oh you're sorry!" Ginny sneered in contempt. "Harry Potter is sorry!"

"Ginny…" He whispered._ You're breaking my heart…_

"Just get out of here, Harry." She said wearily.

And he did.

* * *

_Where did the happy ending go?_

* * *

Surprisingly, given the state he had found the covered wooden bridge in, the old viaduct was in surprisingly good shape; save for the dozens of broken suits of armour, mild damage to the side-guards and the odd dead troll, it was intact.

Harry sat there for a while, examining the Elder Wand until the sun reached the apex of its arc across the cloudless sky. This wand was better than any in existence, and had an appropriately bloody history to match. He had originally intended to return it to Dumbledore's tomb, but now he wasn't so sure. He wasn't dumb enough to keep it though, and knew that eventually someone would trace it to him or whoever he entrusted it to.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron and Hermione walking towards him, looks of worry plastered across their faces. He smiled. At least he could still believe in his best friends.

"Hey." He greeted, not quite cheerfully, but certainly content. "How's you guy?"

"We saw Ginny…" Ron trailed off. "Everything alright between you two?"

"No." Harry admitted simply. "It's…it's my fault."

"How?" Hermione asked.

"I shouldn't have broken up with her." He muttered guiltily. "Now she hates me."

"That's not your fault mate." Ron consoled. "You tried to keep her safe; the only way it would've worked otherwise was if she actually came with us."

"And that would've been impossible." Hermione finished. Harry smiled. They had no idea just how much their support meant to him.

"Thanks." He said sincerely. Then his expression turned to a frown and he held up the Elder Wand. "What should I do about this?"

"Keep it." Ron said instantly.

"I thought you were going to put it back in Dumbledore's tomb?" Hermione asked quizzically.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno anymore."

A sudden thought popped into his head. There was one last thing the wand could do before he condemned it to its fate.

"Reckon it could fix Hogwarts?" Harry suggested, nodding at the still-smoking and broken castle. They stared at him aghast.

"You can't do that mate!"

"The strain will kill you!"

Harry ignored them and turned his attention to the castle, raising the Elder Wand with determined intent.

"_Reparo._"

A beam of icy blue light erupted from the wand's tip and struck the castle, causing it to light up in a brilliant display of magic. Broken away bricks and chips began to slide across the ground before shooting up into the air to take their place in the massive structure. The ruins of Gryffindor tower – demolished in the battle and fell into the lake – rose from the depths, casting off water in the gallons, before reattaching itself to the castle proper. Over the course of a minute the castle was rebuilt, restored…_renewed_.

And then it was over. An exhausted laugh escaped Harry's lips. "I'll be damned. It worked."

Ron and Hermione were awestruck. "There's no way you can just let that go." Ron muttered.

Harry regarded him. "Better that it stays lost."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What're you going to do with it, Harry?"

Harry didn't answer, and instead took each end of the wand in hand, and began to apply pressure.

"Harry…" Ron moaned, distraught that he was doing such a thing. Eventually, the stick of wood groaned, cracked, and eventually snapped completely. Harry smiled, and tossed a half over each side of the bridge.

_I doubt it's gone for good._ A small voice in Harry's head murmured. He ignored it before looking at his two friends, who were both looking at him as though he were insane.

"My last gift to the wizarding world." Harry said dryly. Hermione had a look of knowing on her face now.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Hermione asked sadly. Harry simply nodded with a set jaw.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked hopefully. He considered.

"Away."

* * *

_A long time ago, there was a legend. A legend of another time; old and as terrible as the darkest night._

_This legend said that there was a world lost to ours; a world of monsters and nightmares and things that should never be known, or heard, or seen. Things that should stay lost for all eternity._

_But even eternity does not last forever._

* * *

_**A/N: **__As always, read, review and whatever else. As a side note: Whatever happened to "Harry Potter & The Veil of Shadows"? That was a good fic._

**_Next Time: _**_Four Years Later, and everyone has moved on. That doesn't mean the past can't come back to haunt you._


	2. Four Years Later

_**Disclaimer: **__I've found half the cast on facebook. I'm cool like that._

_**A/N: **__I've decided to do a cool little thing in the "transisition" quotes ( y'know, the cryptic one-liners between paragraphs); Some will still be the cool quotes, but others will be random tidbits from around the Harry Potter Universe. Like say…a summary of the Fundamental Laws of Magic?_

* * *

_**It's Never Over**_

_Chapter Two – Four Years Later_

"_Home is home, though it never be so homely."_

_~ English proverb_

_London, United Kingdom, 8.03 AM, June 7__th__ 2002_

Ginny Weasley awoke to find the first sunlight of the day streaming through her windows. She relaxed back into her soft, comfy pillows and basked in the warmth the rays provided her. All was well in her life nowadays. She was Chaser for the Hollyhead Harpies, she had a place of own; and her love life had not been ruined by a boy with emerald-eyes in over four blissful years. And speaking of love lifes…

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her and she smiled. "Hi, Jamie."

Jamie grinned and leaned in to nuzzle her neck. "I'm all better after last night."

"I'll bet." Ginny said huskily.

Jamie Caius was a muggle-born wizard that Ginny had met six months ago. He had been lovely; they had met at a Quidditch match four months ago and just seemed to click. He just seemed to _get_ her. Add in the fact he was bloody gorgeous and Ginny had found the perfect man.

Despite their reluctance, Ginny knew she would have to get out of bed. It would not do for the bridesmaid not to help set up for the wedding.

"No, c'mon I gotta go!" Ginny pleaded, laughing. Jamie had wrapped his arms around her and kept her on the bed. "I have to do Hermione's hair!"

Jamie sighed and relented, releasing her. Ginny wriggled out of bed and began to gather clothes to get into after her shower.

"I love it when you walk around naked." Jamie said with a smirk. Ginny simply giggled and sashayed her hips.

"Easy tiger."

* * *

_The Fundamental Laws of Magic are a series of basic principles set down by Albert Waffling; they are part of the basic physics on which magic is based.(1) _

_**First Law: **__For every magical action, there is an equal and opposite magical reaction, unless the action is in an isolated environment._

_**Second Law**__: The degree of energy demand when performing an act of magic is exponentially proportional to the scale and complexity of the act of magic._

_**Third Law: **__It is impossible to alter the essential nature of something using magic.(2)_

_(1)* No connection between magic and muggle science has been established – therefore how the nature of magic relates to science is unknown._

_(2)* This law has since been disproved; however, tight regulation and classification of related magics prevent this from being common knowledge, preventing an amendment._

* * *

_The Burrow, United Kingdom, 11: 42 AM, July 7__th__, 2002_

Hermione winced as one of her strands of hair was tugged a bit too forcefully. "Ouch!"

"Sorry, 'Mione." Ginny apologised, before gently arranging it into a set of curlers. They were at the Burrow for Ron and Hermione's wedding; Ginny was a bridesmaid, and so many tasks fell to her hand.

"It's 'kay." She said. "Just a bit nervous."

Ginny laughed. Understandable, given that she was about to get married.

"Having second thoughts?" She teased genially. Hermione shook her head forcefully.

"No!" She yelped, before gulping. "Just a big day, is all."

Ginny smiled before patting her on the shoulder. "I'll really happy for you two." She said sincerely.

Hermione smiled, before turning to a look of sadness. Then she sighed. "Harry should be here."

Ginny scowled, but didn't say anything. Harry Potter was a sore spot for all of them. He hadn't even stayed for Fred's funeral before sauntering off into the sunset. None of them had seen him since._ Good._

"We're better off without him." Ginny stated defiantly. Hermione sighed.

"Ginny…"

"We've been over this." Ginny snapped. "He's a bastard."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and didn't respond.

* * *

_How long do you think you can run for?_

* * *

"You cannot hope to succeed against me."

I rolled my eyes at the proclamation. I've heard the same stuff before, in a dozen different ways and tongues. And they've never got it right.

"Good luck stopping me." I told my would-be attacker.

We were on the infamous Falls of Trivoli, a pair of spectacular waterfalls overlooking the Anciene River in a little corner of lovely Italy. My attacker was a wizened old man, with close-cropped grey hair and a creased brow. The sharp grey suit he wore bellied his inhuman nature.

He was a creature called a Tsarik. Nasty little buggers; they could adopt a human form and they used this to feed. They would befriend and seduce those around them, and leech away their thoughts, their hearts and their souls, taking away everything that made them truly alive and leaving them little more than a withered, mindless husk.

"You really have no idea what forces are aligning against you, do you?" The tsarik asked, clearly amused despite the danger facing him. I shrugged, completely unconcerned.

"It's not that colony of Veelas I saved, and then ran away from before they could "repay" me, is it?" I quipped, smirking all the while. That had been a fun few days.

The tsarik looked aghast. "You should not jest about such things."

I shrugged again, not fazed in the tsarik's rising ire – it's a tune I've heard before, oh so many times. "Probably. Come on then, who's the big bad wolf hoping to blow my house down?"

The tsarik – or, to use his name, Marix – sneered, and announced to the thundering waterfalls before us: "You would call them the Fallen."

I cocked an eyebrow. Now that was a name steeped in urban legend and sceptic myth. "They're a fairy tale."

"And yet, one walks among us; an agent of the Greatest God – "

I cut him off sharply. "Who's the agent?"

He didn't answer, instead rambling on about coming fire and a demigod's mission. ", and he shall bring about the new Way of Things, and show us the Path."

"Why are you telling me this?" My tone was neither angry nor fearful, but merely vaguely curious.

"Because, don't you see? It's all part of the plan – the paths we must walk – the world will end at the return of those that came before." Marix rattled off, sinking deeper into the broken insanity.

"Who. Is. The. Agent."

Marix's eyes snapped to me, and I realised with a start that he was gone from the realm of loyal lucidity. I snapped my trusty old wand up and steeled myself for when the rabid bull reared to charge.

He lunged forward with an impossible speed; arms outstretched and maw open wide and dripping poison. I barely manage to jump to the side as he charged past. He stopped, and snapped round to me again. Hissing, growling with animalistic sensibility. I raised my wand and fired off a simple stunner. It missed, and I swore.

He charged again.

This time, I was ready. I stared at the oncoming storm head on and fired a Reductor Curse straight into his face. He hit the ground unceremoniously at my feet, minus the best part of his head. I sighed; part of me was annoyed, and part saddened. The tsarik's head would just grow back eventually though. The Ministry in Italy had a full department for this sort of thing.

The Fallen were a lie. They had to be. But every legend has a basis in fact and there had always been an invisible spark of almost-truth to the rumours. And if the last four miserable years have taught me anything, it's that any godforsaken thing someone has claimed existed has, in some form or another.

I closed my eyes and felt the merciless wind run through my hair and listened to the roars of the beautiful cascades. It was truly breath-taking here, although there were places I've been without comparison.

If the Fallen were out to get me – big if – then it was time to stop running. Time to go back and face the proverbial music.

With a swirl and a crack, I apparate away from the Falls of Trivoli. I had a wedding to go to.

* * *

_I hate you!_

_I know; but it's time to fix all that._

* * *

_The Burrow, United Kingdom, 14: 42 PM, 7__th__ July 2002_

Time can erode mountains, collapse and build world orders, wear away the oldest rivers and kill the greatest men. But, in the four years since I had last seen it, the Burrow hadn't changed at all. It was still the run-down little cottage I remembered with the impossible additions of added roomed bolted on and on. I had so many memories here. Memories of best friends and scoldings and the closest thing I had to a surrogate family.

I had chosen to come today because it seemed right.

There are four things in life you just don't miss: your birth, your wedding, your death, and the wedding of your two best friends.

All in all, it was a similar affair to Bill and Fleur's wedding four – or was it five? How time flies – a ceremony and a reception in a gargantuan lilac marquee erected especially for the occasion. The ceremony had been simple, and elegant. And for all their bickering, and arguing, and falling out and disagreements, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger (now Granger-Weasley) were made for each other.

At least they were happy. Happiness was a commodity I had lacked for four years. Four long, miserable years. Four years of running, and adventures, and sight-seeing and discovery. It had been…fun. But everything's better with someone at your side. You can trust me on that.

Of course, they hadn't known I was here. Better off not knowing. That way I wouldn't kick the hornet's nest and stir up long-buried emotions and bloody, depressing feuds. Better to come and go like a whisper in the gentle wind, and be with them in spirit. I had disguised myself physically and vocally with a convincing American accent. I had chosen an American accent because Australian was too sexy, and French just sounded stupid when you tried to fake it.

I simply watched the dance floor from the bar, watching as my two best friends danced for the first time of the rest of their brilliant little lives. I couldn't help but feel a little depressed and jealous at that. Depressed because the golden days of our little trio were gone; I was the ghost of a third wheel. There would be no more hunts for stones, or lost secret chambers or pieces of a madman's soul. And I was jealous because, in all likelihood, I would never get the girl of my few true dreams. A dream which wore a bridesmaid's dress and danced with a handsome man I didn't recognise.

I took a slip of the dainty little crystal champagne glass I held, and tried to savour the pale liquid gold within. I spat it back into the glass, grimacing. Somewhere along the line, I had developed an inexplicable intolerance for any sort of alcohol. Which was a shame, 'cause I've heard it's a great medicine for unrequited love.

This was like a trip down memory lane. There were just so many people here that I recognised and remembered. The Weasley family was here in force, like some sort of ginger army. There was Neville, and Luna, and so many of my school mates. But there weren't nearly as many as there should've been. Not by a long shot. _You can't keep living in the past, my boy._

I would move on when I earned the right to. And I knew that was a ways off, if ever.

_How many have died in your name? It is an ever growing number; you stride across the world and turn lives upside down as you save the day and saunter off, without a hope or a damn about those you leave behind._

"Shut up!" I hissed quietly to the thin air.

"'scuse me, mate. You alright?" A familiar voice asked over the sound of magical music.

"Fine, yeah, thanks." I muttered distractedly. Ron appraised me with a curious eye, but shrugged it away. He didn't realise who I was. Good.

"Congratulations, by the way." I told him sincerely. "It was a lovely ceremony."

Ron barked a laugh, and ordered a drink from the barman. "You can thank Hermione for that; she took control of everything."

Sounds about right, I decided with a laugh. Ron looked at me, studying me intently. I faltered under the scrutiny.

"Do I know you?" He asked, frowning. "I'm sure I've met you before…"

"Ah, no." I stuttered, cursing myself. "I'm a friend of a friend."

"You don't get many American wizards this side of the pond."

"Heh. British-born, but raised in America." I explained away. I could bullshit with the best of them.

"Parents wanted away from the war?" Ron said sympathetically. I simply nodded.

My eyes settled on the form of the girl I loved and lost, and I threw caution to the winds, despite what every instinct and heartbeat told me. Plus, Ron had always been protective of his sister. "What's the deal with the bridesmaid?"

Ron glanced over to her. "She has a boyfriend, mate. Sorry."

Those words tore my heart apart, but my face was a mask of neutral boredom. There had been something in Ron's tone when he said that; a discontentment of the situation, as if he disliked what he had just revealed with more than simple brotherly overprotection.

"You don't sound too happy about that."

Ron slipped into a taciturn mood. "Well, I guess I'm not. It's complicated." He paused, searching for the right words to voice his thoughts. "It's…well…basically…before there was someone else. And I just can't help but think they would've been so much better together. Everyone does."

I smiled, not quite able to keep the sadness off it. "What happened?"

Ron took a sip of his drink, and a condescending smirk adorned his features. "I think you probably know it better than me, Harry."

I stared at him dumbfounded. "How -?"

"What, you think I can't recognise my own best friend?" Ron chuckled, amused. I stared at Ron in disbelief.

"I always knew there was going on in your head than you let on." I said eventually. Ron laughed.

"Don't tell Hermione."

We fell into companionable silence for a while, savouring the moment. I watched Ginny dance with a hole in my chest. Eventually Ron spoke again.

"Thanks for coming…it means a lot." Ron said sincerely.

"I wouldn't miss this for anything." I told him honestly. To hell with ominous legends and bloodthirsty monsters. Something inside me weeped, and I blew out a shaky sigh. "This is so weird."

"What is?"

"Everyone else has moved on. Got a life, a job, a mortgage, all of that normal stuff. And I'm still swanning about, being the bloody hero."

Ron smiled in understanding. "You just don't want to settle down."

Ron was wrong. "But I do…but with _her._"

"So tell her."

Trust Ron, trust brilliant, fantastic and utterly dependable Ron to say it like it was the most obvious and simplest thing in the world.

"You know I can't."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't." Ron shrugged.

"It's better like this."

Ron disagreed. "It really isn't. The guy's an arse."

"You said that about all her boyfriends." I noted with dry amusement.

Ron sighed. "True, but you're the only person I'd trust with her. I know how far you'd go for her."

"Thanks, Ron." Words like that were worth their weight in gold and diamonds.

Ron smiled, before deciding to get onto a less depressing subject. "Did you really save a colony of Veela?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "How'd you hear about that?"

"The paper does a biweekly segment on your latest adventures."

"Oh." I hadn't known that. "Well, yeah, I did. Long story involving a German slaver and a mix-up with a pair of trousers."

Ron laughed. "You lucky bugger. Bill said that tribal Veela have _very _pleasurable methods of repayment." He said, wriggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"Yeahhh…" I felt my cheeks warm and turn scarlet. "I didn't stay to find out."

"Why not?" Ron asked, surprised.

"There's only one person I want to be with that way." I murmured. God I sound like such a sap.

"Wait, so in the past four years you've never..?"

"No."

"Wow. So you're still -?"

I nodded, depressed. I didn't mind the fact I had never indulged in the pleasures of the carnal flesh, but it was sad to think I was waiting for a girl who despised me. We settled into silence once more.

"I didn't ignore you all, y'know." I said, after an age. Ron cocked an eyebrow. "I always made sure I had you guys a present every birthday and Christmas."

"Oh, so that's where those came from." Ron said in newfound understanding.

"Heh. Yeah."

A smile cracked across my face when I saw Hermione making her way towards us. She looked stunning in her modest wedding dress. Hard to think the bookshy and studious Hermione Granger had become such a woman. _Living in the past, again…_

"You've been over here a while Ron-oh, who's this?"

"The idiot you saved so many times." I said with the hint of a smile on my lips.

"Harry?" She asked, disbelieving and hopeful. "It's you?"

"It's me."

She squealed and engulfed me in a bear hug to rival those of the Weasley matriarch. I smiled and returned the hug with gusto. Hugs and handshakes make the world go round, would you know.

"I missed you guys so much." I told them. The barest hints of tears where starting to form.

"How – why?"

"What? You'd think I'd miss my best friends' wedding?" I asked in mock offense.

Hermione smiled, before asking. "What've you been doing the last four years.

Running from a memory, but I didn't tell them that. "Just wandering, getting into trouble, y'know me."

Well, there was the accident in the _Magus Biblios_ with a broken Time-Turner, finding and blowing up Atlantis (that had been fun). I had travelled right across the world and did whatever took my fancy. Skiing down the Swiss Alps. The Roman Coliseum, New York, Moscow. Hell, I'd even been to the Arctic Circle.

Hermione laughed, before turning to Ron. "Hey, mind if Harry and I had a dance?"

I grinned as Ron took on a thoughtful air. "Alright. But bear in mind I'm an Auror now." He said, raising his finger in mock threat. I gave a lazy salute as Hermione dragged me to the dance floor. I've yet to get the hang of it, but thankfully the music and Hermione leaned towards something simple.

"Why have you come back?" She asked simply.

I blinked. "Because I chose to?"

"I know you Harry. You would've kept running all your life, or you wouldn't have risked being discovered here if you didn't have a reason."

I sighed. To hell with it. "I'm sick of running. And I think I might need help."

"I thought as much." Hermione lamented. "What is it?"

"The Fallen."

That got Hermione's attention. And given the nature of their legend, it was justified.

The Fallen were said to be a group of witches and wizards who shaped the nature of world events; they controlled fate, destiny, everything, every major event happened as part of their plan, the Master Path the world had to walk. No one had ever seen one though. Or more accurately, _knew _they had seen one. The legend went on to state that they would reveal themselves to the world when they planned to destroy it in a sea of fire and black smoke.

So yeah. Bit worried.

"They're real?" Hermione asked.

"Apparently so."

Hermione paused, mulling over something. "What do you need from us?"

Now for the kicker. "Nothing."

"Then why'd you come back?" Hermione queried dubiously.

"Because…" I began, grasping for words. "I'm trying to fix things."

"With Ginny?"

"Yes." I ground out. The song ended and Hermione stepped back knowingly. Then, from god-knows-where, she pulled out her wand.

"Uh…where were you…"

"Secret." Hermione winked. "And I think it'd be better if you did it with your own face. _Verus Aspecto."_

Instantly, I felt a warm rush across my skin as the Glamour Charms and Notice-Me-Not Charms and a dozen other spells I'd used to conceal my face were washed away. Gasps and cries of joy and happiness rang out across the attendees.

The next half-hour was a blitzkrieg of handshakes, anecdotes and one-sided tear-felt reunions. While it was nice to see everyone again, I can't say I cared for it. Too many memories and emotions I'd rather stay hidden. How many here were related to someone that died? All of them.

I sighed, but accepted the situation. Guess I was back for good.

* * *

_You don't look back because you can't._

* * *

_Washington D.C, United States, 11: 03 AM, 7__th__ July 2002_

"Ever heard of Harry Potter?"

"Can't say I have." Samantha Bond admitted. The person who had asked was called Tom; a fellow agent. He was a tall, dark man with bored eyes.

"Apparently, he took down the Level-One threat self-proclaimed as 'Lord Voldemort'." Tom said with interest.

Samantha was interested, but didn't really see what that had to do with anything. "And? What does that have to do with the Fallen incident?"

A few days ago, some sort of malware had attacked the American Institute of Magical Supervision (AIMS), and disabled their entire computer network; for seven seconds, every screen in the Institute had flashed with a single word: _FALLEN._

Tom shrugged, and took a thoughtful sip of his coffee, held in a cardboard cup. "Man, I don't know, but his record lists him as a Level-Zero Magical. According to our records he's now a bit of an adventurer; we have him tagged as the most powerful and influential magical in the entire world."

Samantha cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. "Where are you going with this?"

Tom leaned forward, as if to talk of secrets. "Well, I'm saying that if the high-ups are shutting this down like the rumours are saying, then this guy might be able to help."

"And you're telling me because-?"

"'Cause you and I both know you ain't gonna let this go." Tom laughed, before standing up. "I've got a report to finish, catch."

After Tom left, Samantha considered what Tom had told her, then searched for this 'Harry Potter' in the AIMS' database. The picture showed an obviously out-of-date picture, probably taken from an old newspaper article. The boy looked to be sixteen (although the profile had him listed as twenty years old.) The kid had messy, untameable jet-black hair, and piercing green eyes. What stood out though the scar on his forehead – it looked like a lightning bolt.

His profile matched what Tom had said. Age of one killed Voldemort, then killed him again in 1998. He left site GB-2 ( 'Hogwarts') and travelled around the world engaging in numerous exploits. No previous interaction with AIMS or any other intelligence service.

He sounded good, Samantha decided. She would make the arrangements to have him brought in and help investigate the Fallen.

* * *

_**A/N: **__There was originally more to this chapter, but I decided to leave it till next._

_As always, read, review and whatever else._


	3. Confrontations

_**Disclaimer: **__I always thought Lockhart was a bit of a perv._

_**A/N: **__Well, here we go again._

* * *

_**It's Never Over**_

_Chapter Three – Confrontations_

"_I don't avoid confrontation. People should know that."_

_~ David Coverdale_

_The Burrow, United Kingdom, 16: 02 PM, July 7__th__ 2002_

Well, I can tell our eventual conversation will not be a particularly pleasurable one.

Ginny keeps glaring at me from across the room. Good thing she's not a Basilisk, or I'd be deader than a dodo. Someone's talking in my ear about how good it was to see me again, but I wasn't listening. Partly because I didn't know the guy – apparently he had seen me on the day of my trial just before fifth-year. Like that was a valid reason to act like some long lost friend.

But it was mostly because of Ginny.

Ginny, Ginny, Ginny. It always came back to her.

_Why do you live, Harry Potter? _

_Because I have something worth living for._

Ah, words spoken with such idealistic surety to a murdering madman so long ago. And back then, they had been true. But now…I wasn't so sure anymore. Time's change, people change. Everything can change with the blink of an eye or the snapping of a finger. And trust me, when I say that the dreams and truths you cling to with such desperate regard can be turned on their heads and shattered within a single heartbeat.

Ginny was the reason I had come back from the abyss to fight the good fight and finish it. Not because it was the right thing to do, or because I wanted revenge. I came back for _her_. Damn whatever tried to stand in my way.

Unless of course, it was herself that was in the way. Bit of a conundrum, really.

"Aren't you listening, lad?" The annoying wizard snapped. I glanced at him blearily.

"No."

The wizard huffed and shuffled off to find some other unlucky sod to irritate. I turned my attention back to Ginny. She was in the slivery folds of a sleek red bridesmaids dress, and I couldn't help but be enthralled by the way she looked. Eyes and smiles set the heart alright with desire, wouldn't you know?

I considered, and then dismissed the thought. I considered again, and again, and dismissed it every time. I couldn't go over; couldn't talk to her. It was insanity in the eyes of hapless love.

I considered again. _To hell with it._

I slowly, uncertainly wandered over to where she sat alone. Her 'boyfriend' had sauntered off somewhere with a dazzling smile, and left her sipping champagne from a crystal glass. She didn't look up when I approached.

"Hello…" I was beginning to wring my hands now.

Ginny still didn't look up. "So I take it you like weddings more than funerals then?"

Wincing at the icy tone she had used, I opted for offbeat humour. "Doesn't everyone?"

Big mistake. She snapped up – _her eyes –_ and took on an air of fury.

"You think it's funny?" She hissed. "You didn't even stay for their funerals! You just ran away!"

_And you're the reason why._

So that was one reason for her anger. One I could fix, thankfully. "Bow tie."

"What?" Ginny tone changed to one of confusion.

"In the back, with the bow tie." I repeated. "That was me."

Realisation dawned on Ginny's face, and I smiled sadly. At Fred's funeral, there had been an elderly man with a bow tie. And the same man had been at Colin Creevy's funeral. And Remus'. And Tonk's. He had been at every single funeral for those that had died at the Battle of Hogwarts. No one recognised him, or knew his name, or where he came from.

Something in Ginny's hard expression softened. The embers of dashed hope began to spark into life once more. Maybe there was still a chance.

"Why…why a bow tie?"

I took on a look of mock offense. "Bow ties are cool."

"They're really not." Ginny said. And _she laughed._ Her whole face lights up when she laughs. It's incredible. I was smiling now.

Her faced hardened, as she realised who she was talking to. The moment of nostalgia passed, and I quickly felt awkward silence coming on. And it did.

We didn't speak again, and fell into a mood; Ginny's was one of annoyance and mine one of despondency.

"Harry your pocket is making a noise."

I blinked and realised what she was on about. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a sleek red rectangle. It was playing _"Help!"_ by the Beatles.

"What's that?" Ginny asked, her animosity overridden by curiosity.

"It's called a mobile phone." I told her.

"Doesn't look like the one Hermione has." Ginny said.

"Well, mine's is custom built. A friend helped build it." I offered by way of explanation. It was true. This thing had technology that wouldn't be commercially available for another eight or nine years. Not to mention it never ran out of power, or needed credit. It didn't even use satellites – it connected straight to the desired device. Useful bit of kit for someone like me. I had gotten quite big on muggle tech. I once spent a whole day with a guy named Mark throwing around ideas for websites.

I flipped open the phone and accepted the call. "Hello?"

A uncultured, rough voice answered. "_Harry! My lad!"_

"Hello, Richard." I greeted with amusement.

"_I've got my hands on some very fine Eyes of Druidi, if you're interested?"_

"No thanks, Richard. Those things are just trouble." I told him. Richard sighed.

"_Alright. See ya around."_ And the call ended. Ginny cocked an eyebrow.

"Who was that?"

I shrugged. "A trader named Richard. Think a less-annoying Mundungus. Helped him out a whiles back and now I get first dibs on whatever he's selling."

"Why do I get the feeling that's a common story about you?"

"Because it is." I said with a sigh. I had amassed a lot of uncalled favours in the past few years. Then I decided to do something stupid. "I know you want to forgive me. I can see it in your eyes."

Ginny glared. "You don't deserve it."

_I know._

"And yet you're still talking to me. If you were just angry or antipathetic you'd have walked away by now." I told her.

"Whatever, Potter." And that was that. We lapsed into silence once more.

From somewhere within the throng, came out Ginny's boyfriend. What was his name? John? Jack? J-something.

"Hey, love." J-something greeted, swooping down to kiss her. I looked away, embarrassed and melancholy.

"Hey, Jamie." So that was his name? It sucked. Why could he be called Chester? Chester was a good name. Or Optimus Prime. Now _that _was a name.

Jamie noticed me, and extended his hand. There was a tattoo on his wrist; a skeletal hand grasping a sphere. I made a note of that. "Jamie Caius."

"Potter. Harry Potter." Chosen One, Boy-Who-Lived-To-Die-And-Lived, slayer of Dark Lords, Lord-Guardian of High Atlantis, and a dozen other meaningless names and titles.

"It's a pleasure." Jamie greeted. Sod.

"Harry was just leaving." Ginny said quickly, glancing at me with obvious intent.

I sighed and stood up, and made to leave. I turned back to Ginny.

"I'm not giving up." I told her simply.

As I walked away, I could've sworn I had seen the barest hint of a smile on her face.

* * *

_Loving you isn't easy, but baby I've got to try._

* * *

_Heathrow Airport, United Kingdom, 10: 16 AM, July 8__th__ 2002_

"Hawaii is a nice place this time of year." I told Ron and Hermione. "You'll really enjoy it."

I had decided to see them off for their honeymoon. They were going to take an airplane to Hawaii for three weeks.

"Still don't see why we need to take an aeroplane." Ron groused. "Portkeys are faster."

"Oh, shush you. You just don't like the idea of them." Hermione chided lovingly. _Well, it IS a giant metal tube gliding along the sky. They're delicate things._

I laughed. "Have fun."

"We will." Ron said happily. I realised with a grimace what I had just said. Lovely. Then Ron's face turned serious. "Listen; if you need help with the Fallen thing, don't be afraid to come get us."

I rolled my eyes. "Ron, I'll be fine. We don't even know if it's real."

"I know, but-"

"But nothing." I cut him off sharply. I briefly hugged the pair of them. "Now, off you go and make babies."

Another grimace.

After a quick round of farewells, the newlyweds went to get seated on their plane and I decided to go back to Grimmauld Place. Kreacher and I had gutted the place and redecorated it to the point that it could be considered a living space again. Every floor, wall and room had been ripped down and rebuilt. There was a mix of muggle and magic about the place – I had a television and a computer and a few video game systems.

The place was even more heavily warded as well; I had rebuilt the entire ward scheme and added a new Fidelius. There were even a few Atlantean and Parselmagic wards for good measure. Good luck to anyone trying to break in.

I sighed when I saw the headline of the _Daily Prophet_ Kreacher had bought earlier.

_HARRY POTTER RETURNS!_

I really couldn't have five minutes of privacy here in Britain, could I?

* * *

_The Five Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration are as follows:_

_Food, Love, Information, Precious Metals, and true sentient Life._

* * *

_AIMS HQ, United States of America, 11: 43 PM, July 8__th__, 2002_

Samantha slammed her hand down on the pristine glass table. "You can't just let this go!" She shrieked. "You need to investigate this!"

Across the table sat a balding man with cropped hair and worry lines. His name was Dean Notts; Head of Samantha's department. The man was a legend – he was the oldest active agent for AIMS, and the most competent.

"I'm afraid that's impossible." Dean said sadly. "This matter has been re-classified Clandestine. It's out of our hands." He paused. "I'm truly sorry."

Samantha threw her hands up in frustration before stomping out of the meeting room. Couldn't they see how big this was? Something had gotten into AIMS itself – the most secure facility and organisation in the normal world.

She sighed and let out the breath she had been holding. She'd just have to try again later.

She decided to get coffee and then returned to her own office and instantly realised something was wrong. All her files were missing, and the computer had obviously had its hard drive removed.

She tried to log in to her computer using her password but was rejected. What was going on?

Comprehension hit her like an oncoming freight train. Not once had she considered the possibility that someone on the _inside_ was responsible.

Not thinking about it twice and knowing the stakes were higher than what she could imagine, she snatched up her coat and keys and set about leaving the building.

The desk job had gotten boring, anyways.

* * *

_Gurdy gurdy gurdy in the window-boxy_

* * *

_Grimmauld Place, United Kingdom, 19: 42 PM, July 8__th__ 2002_

The Fallen.

No two sources agree on any specifics about them. Some call them angels acting out God's will. Others are of the opinion that they're simply a sect of very Machiavellian witches and wizards simply controlling the world as they see fit. Even the etymology of the name was in doubt. And the only thing I had gleaned from the internet was half a million results about a show with transforming robots.

However, each version, or iteration, or incarnation of the fable held one thing in common. They all agreed that one day the Fallen would reveal themselves to the world and destroy it – although again, the exact specifics of how the destruction would come about were a hotly debated topic in conspiracy and doomsday circles. Some argued they would kick-start a chain of events to have us destroy ourselves. Others argued about the unleashing of a dozen different ancient evils – many of them legends in their own right.

I was in my study in a comfy chair with a large store of tea and cake and jelly babies. I had set to work what seemed like hours ago trailing through every book I could find with information on the Fallen. I needed a lead to follow. I had already moved through about thirty different volumes; each one more useless than the last. Some of them had little more than a mention, while others had wildly convoluted and unproven hypothesises. I was at a loss.

I guess that's just what happens though. One guy hears something and tells another guy, who tells another, who tells someone else, and with every retelling it gets farther and farther from the truth. More than a little like _chinese whispers_.

I toss _100 Wizarding Myths_ into the "useless crap" pile and lean back into my comfy chair. I run my eyes with a groan and contemplate giving up, at least for the night. Do something else.

Like say…coming up with a plan to help win back Ginny?

No. Shut up. You bloody pillock.

With a resigned sigh and a bite of chocolate cake – Kreacher always got the good stuff – I picked up the next heavy tome. _A-to-Z of Legends._

Didn't even mention the Fallen. Although apparently the Chamber of Secrets is actually in Africa, according to it. The next one had a chapter on it, but only really discussed the various theories rather than giving any concrete evidence. Another two for the "useless crap" pile.

Two hours, seventy-two books, and a great many cups of delicious milky tea later I had run out of books to search through. Which meant I was out of leads full stop. I had gutted every bookshop in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, along with the Hogwarts Library.

Whatever the Fallen were, I wasn't going to find it in a book that could be bought. And on reflection, I was an idiot for even thinking about it. Of course they would've controlled what books got published.

_If I were an evil wizard controlling the world, where would I be?_

I would have people everywhere. In the Ministry, in Downing Street, in the White House. Probably working behind the scenes. Which meant that every politician and every one of their advisors, secretaries and affiliates could be one. That was a long list.

Part of me suspected though, that one was near me. The way the tsarik had told me about them suggested that they were after me personally. But why?

Well, because it's me, I supposed. I did kill Voldemort, and I have a lot of sway because of that. So I was a potential threat, or a potential ally.I would go with _threat._ Anyone worth their salt would know better than to try and recruit me for something like that.

Just then, Kreacher the House-Elf popped into existence, bearing a tray laden with food. "Dinner, Master Harry." He said in his typical gravelly voice.

"Thank you." I accepted the tray gratefully. Roast chicken and potatoes. Lovely.

Kreacher glanced at all the books. His brow furrowed. "What is Master Harry doing?"

"Looking for the Fallen." I said. And not having any real luck.

Kreacher looked thoughtful, as if remembering something. Then, he said. "Old master Aquila studied them."

Oh, get in there.

"Really?" I asked, interested. "Did he have notes?"

Kreacher nodded. "They were moved into the attic."

"Can you get them for me please?"

Kreacher nodded, and disappeared with a _pop._ I waited impatiently for his return. This could be the first breadcrumb to kickstart the whole thing. He returned about a minute later with a small, well-worn book. A diary, most likely. The front cover simply read_ Property of Aquila L. Black._ I took it from him gratefully and started speed-reading.

"What's the guy's story?" I asked curiously.

"Kreacher does not know for certain – Master Aquila was around before my service." Kreacher said. "But it is said that he fell in love, but ran afoul of the Fallen because it was not in their interests."

"What happened?"

"He fell in love with a Half-blood, but the Fallen arranged for his lover to befall an accident. He knew the Fallen were behind it and dedicated the rest of his life to finding them."

And it seemed, he had succeeded partially in that regard. There were lists upon lists of events he attributed to the Fallen and people he believed were agents – but since this was in the eighteenth century those were of no use to me. Then I struck gold in the most heartbreaking way.

_In all my travels to find the accursed Fallen, I keep coming across a single symbol. I don't know of its significance to them, or what it represents, but I have theories. I believe that it is used to allow other Fallen to recognise each other and not interfere – a sort of badge, if you will. One that allows different cells to stay out of each other's way or find eachother. As for what it represents, I believe it is just a symbolic interpretation of their power; they hold the world in their hands._

The symbol in question was a sphere, held in the grip of a skeletal hand. The exact same tattoo Ginny's boyfriend had. Never ignore a coincidence.

Guess I was off to see the ex, then.

* * *

_Is it wrong to be excited?_

* * *

_Ginny's Apartment, United Kingdom, 22: 13 PM, July 8__th__ 2002_

Her apartment was one of the newer ones; it even had an electronic keypad rather than traditional keys. I had to use Mage Sight – one of my many useful tricks - to see the magical residue of the buttons being pressed to gain access. Then it was a trek up two dozen flights of stairs – the lift was out – to the floor where I had found out Ginny's apartment to be.

I knocked the door and waited. No answer. I knocked again. Still nothing. Either J-something (I had forgotten his name again) had made his move or they just weren't in. The door wasn't locked though, so I quietly let myself in. And promptly realised why no one had answered.

Ginny had been in the shower.

She came out of what I guessed to be the bathroom, clad in nothing but a fluffy white towel. And the way it was wrapped around her didn't leave much to the imagination. And then she noticed me.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

"Er…hi?"

She self-consciously tried to wrap the towel closer around her and I had the gentleman's decency to avert my gaze. She demanded again.

"What do you want?"

"To..to talk." I stuttered. I probably should've made an appointment. Her expression relented slightly.

"About?"

"Something important."

Ginny sighed. I think she thought I meant something else. "Can I at least put some clothes on?"

Oh, so many witty one-liners. "Yeah, sure."

She shuffled into another room – her bedroom, probably. I took a quick look around her apartment. The living room had a small kitchenette, and the whole art style seemed to be very contemporary. Lots of light colours and stylish furniture. Probably her boyfriend's choice – Ginny would've gone for something a bit more like the Burrow. Or the Ginny I knew would've.

I decided to plop myself down on the black leather couch and boredly examined the photographs on the coffee table. Not a single one of me, of course. There was one of Ginny and J-something, just after a Quidditch match from the looks of it. Both of them were glaring at me. I was looking at it sadly when Ginny returned, clad in a white nightdress and sleeping gown. There was almost something fairy-tale about it.

"So?" She said, irritated.

"How'd you two meet?" I asked, raising the photograph by way of explanation.

"What does that have to do with anything?" She snapped.

"Please."

Ginny sighed, and relented. "We met after a Quidditch match about six months ago. He had been watching and asked for my autograph." She paused. "We just really hit it off. He's a businessman."

Sounds believable. "Where'd he get the tattoo on his wrist?"

Ginny shrugged. "He's always had it."

"And you don't know why?"

"Never asked."

I nodded. "What if I were to tell you that your boyfriend is part of a group that controls all world actions and wants to help destroy civilisation?"

_Potter, you actual dumbass._

Ginny sighed again. "Harry…I know you still have feelings for me, " _Wait, what? _", but you can't just do this."

"I'm being serious!" Wow. Never knew my voice could go so high.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I think you should leave." There was no room for questioning in her voice.

I stood up. "Ginny –"

"Don't 'Ginny' me!"

I sighed and ran a stressed hand through my hair. "I know you don't trust me. And I know you probably hate me for breaking up with you the way I did –"

"You made me feel like I was worthless!" She snarled.

"I know, and I'm so sorry. I spent the first ten years of my life in a cupboard under the stairs. I had no idea about what it was really like to have friends or be loved, or how to act around them."

"Boo-hoo."

Something inside me snapped. "Y'know why I broke up with you? To keep you _safe._ If they thought I still loved you, you wouldn't have even made it to Hogwarts! Harry Potter's ex-girlfriend doesn't have as big a target on her head as just girlfriend!"

"Maybe I didn't want to be safe!" Ginny shrieked. "Maybe I could've helped!"

"Ginny, I hate to be logical, but you were underage. The Trace, we would've been lit up like bonfire night!"

"You could've found a way!"

"Oh? And what if something happened? How was I supposed to tell your family that you had gotten killed? It would've killed _me _."

"So as long as you can live with yourself, everything's okay?" Ginny snapped.

Suddenly, I felt very, very tired, and weary. "Every night; I dream of you. The way you smile. The way you laugh. The way your hair blows in the wind. And I know there's probably no hope for us anymore; but that doesn't mean I can just stop caring about you."

And that was such a depressing thought.

"Yes, because I really need saving right now." Ginny said sarcastically.

"You might."

Ginny marched up to me and poked me in the chest. "I'm happy now. More than I ever was with you."

Now _that _hurt. It felt as if every heartstring had been ripped out.

"I just want to keep it that way." I said quietly. Better you're happy and safe with another man, than with trouble's best friend. I wouldn't be happy, not by the longest of shots but still. _No man is ever happy if the girl he loves is in the arms of another…but they will bear it as long as she is._

I just stood there for what seemed an age. Eventually, I heard the door open behind me.

"Ah, hello love." It was J-something. "And hello, Harry. What brings you here?"

I manage to keep the tears away and my voice from breaking. "Just congratulating Ginny on her latest match."

"Ah, yes, it was a cracker wasn't it?" He said absent-mindedly.

"And now he's just about to leave." Ginny said quickly, looking at me pointedly. But then J-someth- Jamie! That was his name- said something surprising.

"Nonsense!" he boomed. "I'll put the kettle on and we'll have a cuppa."

Okay, now I knew something was amiss. A current boyfriend would first question why an ex would randomly turn up to someone's house, not offer them tea.

But true to his word, a few minutes later we all had identical mugs of tea in front of us. Although by then I had figured out what the slimy bugger was trying to do. Gotta love switching spells.

"Harry seems to think you're part of some evil group that wants to destroy the world." Ginny told him dryly, obviously not believing me. "Are you?"

She obviously didn't expect the answer he gave. And judging by the horrified look on his face, neither had he.

"Yes." He glanced down at his cup with horrified realisation. I smirked and raised my own cup, and took a satisfying sip.

"Y'know, if you're gonna spike my tea with Veritaserum, you should at least make sure I don't switch the cups around."

He tried to make a break for it, but a quick _Incarcerous_ and he's bound by heavy ropes. Ginny was in shock.

"Do they know you're compromised?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Are they coming here now?"

Another nod.

"Gonna have to make this quick then." I muttered. "What do you know about the Fallen?"

"Only that they pay well." He grunted.

"So you don't know who they are?"

"No." Damn. I suppose that would've been too easy – the one incompetent agent a_nd _has all the information I need? I'd never be that lucky.

I decided to try another route. "How did they recruit you?"

Jamie grimaced, desperate to hold his silence. "A year ago they came to me; said I was just what they needed. That I could help change the world."

"What did they tell you about me?" I demand. Ginny had sat still, unmoving for an age, not quite sure what was happening.

"That you stood apart from the Plan."

"Which means?"

"They cannot predict you the way they can for everyone else." Jamie muttered. "They cannot control your path, or predict your actions."

_Sounds useful._

Then Ginny asked; quietly, delicately. "Why did you start a relationship with me?"

Jamie turned to her. There was something akin to pride in his now-deranged eyes. "Because if I had to await Potter's return, I thought I might as well have had a little _fun…"_

"But I loved you." Ginny whispered. My heart ached at just how lost she looked.

"And that just made it even better." Jamie sneered. "You really know how to-argh!"

I had just kicked the table into his knee. Oops. Ginny didn't say anything; she just stood up and walked out, blinking away tears and a broken heart. With one last glance at Jamie – _You bloody idiot –_ I follow her out into the hallway.

"Gin-"

"Piss off, I'm not in the mood!" she snapped.

I sighed. As much as I'd like to just comfort her, time is not on our side. Heh. When is it ever? I grab her carefully by the arms and force her to look at me.

"Ginny, I know you don't like me all that much, and that's fine. But right now, we're in danger. You need to trust me to get out of this." I paused. "Afterwards, you can do whatever you want –hex me, go away, I won't stop you."

I resorted to begging. "Please. Trust me. Trust me for twenty minutes."

Ginny considered.

"What do we do?"

* * *

_**A/N: **__That went well, methinks. Virtual cookies for all those who can tell me the various references._

_As always, read, review and all that jazz._

_**Next Time: **__"The Escape." Harry and Ginny flee the Fallen, and begin to look for answers to a great many questions._


	4. The Escape

_**Disclaimer: **__Who? What? When?_

_**A/N: **__To the reviewers: Look at it from Ginny's perspective; first five books she gets ignored, and she's bound to be bitter for that. Then when they finally do hit it off, he breaks up with her and swans off to fight Voldemort. More bitterness. Then a year of constant fear and anxiety, and probable insecurity issues. Then, when he DOES come back, he doesn't even say goodbye to her before seemingly dying. Then she's loses her brother, so what happened in the initial chapter isn't that much of a stretch. Exacerbate that when you consider he then ran off for four years. Even more bitterness. And to be honest, its more to do with insecurity and fear rather than bitterness .She doesn't have the full picture like we do – just the hypotheses a scared teenage girl can come up with._

_Is it probably an exaggeration? Yes. But hey, no one likes an underscaled story. But rest assured, Harry is going to snap eventually. _

_And as for Jamie: he didn't treat her like a hooker. He was genuinely charming and gentlemanly towards her. No hints of Dark magic, or being an asshole, or the pawn of an evil organisation. She had no idea about his true nature until Harry tricked him into taking his own veritaserum._

* * *

_**It's Never Over**_

_Chapter Four – The Escape_

Did I ever mention that my pockets were magically expanded? Well, the ones on my suit jackets were. Very useful if like me, you've developed a penchant for carrying all manner of useful and useless crap. At any one time in one of my pockets you would find: many, many jelly babies and other delicious confectionary, a compass, several note pads and stationary, a packet of water balloons, suggestion paper, a telescope that doesn't work, a slightly battered copy of Douglas Adam's _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_, a rubber duck, several bits of string and three toothbrushes, amongst other things.

Oh, and there was my ever-trusty Invisibility Cloak, which Ginny and I were wearing now. No sooner had I managed to earn Ginny's agreement than three black SUVs had pulled up outside the block along with a similar unmarked van. About a dozen or so uniformed soldiers piled out of the van, clad in black military fatigues and Kevlar and armed with muggle firearms. Jamie Caius really hadn't been kidding when he said they had been coming in force.

And speaking of Caius, Ginny had seemed to settle into a state of combat acuity. All her tears had gone and she clutched her wand tightly with deadly intent. Warrior spirit, or something like it. I think the shock of tonight just hasn't sunk in yet. _And you'll probably bear the brunt._

I'd deal with that when we came to it.

We watched under from under the slivery folds of the cloak as four of the soldiers arrived on the floor. I could see that in addition to their guns – M4 assault rifles, military standard – they also had wands holstered on their chests. Wizards then. Interesting. I've ran into similar groups before, but none so well equipped. These guys meant business for an employer who meant business, know what I mean?

"They can't hear us." I whispered gently in Ginny's ear. "I added a few features to the cloak." Nothing could hear us and no spell could detect us unless we wanted it to.

"What if they bump into us?" Ginny pointed out.

"Then we're screwed, yes." I admitted with amusement. We'd just have to be careful not to.

Three of the goons set about knocking down the door to the apartment, and we ever so carefully manoeuvred around the remaining two. We didn't have time, and magical transportation was denied to us – apparating straight away could allow them to trace us, and that just wouldn't do. We manage to slip past them and make our way –albeit very slowly and cumbersomely – down the many many flights of stairs, and out into the open London night.

We carefully snuck around the corner of the street – the seven remaining soldiers were still at the van, awaiting for our potential escape attempts- to where Ginny had said Caius kept his car. I pulled out the set of keys I had 'borrowed' from him and pressed the button on the fob. As expected, one of the cars reacted with a _'beep!'_ and a flash of lights. I almost grinned when I saw it.

"Y'know, Ginny, as much as I'd hate to admit it…your boyfriend has good taste."

It was a Ferrari 550 Barchetta in crimson red. Now, I'm not much of a car freak, but I knew quality when I saw it. 5.5 litre V12 engine, six-speed transmission and nought to sixty in 4.2 seconds. Almost a shame I was probably about to prang it.

The armed goons either hadn't heard the noise of it being unlocked, or had and simply dismissed it. I didn't think twice about it and pulled the cloak off the two of us and opened the door. I got in, and after a moment's hesitation, Ginny got in the other side.

I sat there for a moment, fiddling with things; seat position, mirrors, all the crap needed to be a good little driver. Ginny stared at me anxiously. "You _do _know how to drive right? 'Cause I don't…"

I scoffed. "'Course I do." Then I noticed something. "Ah."

"What?"

"It's an automatic." I admitted sheepishly. "Never drove one before…to hell with it."

Ignoring Ginny's worried look, I turned the key into the slot, and turned it. The engine roared to life with a satisfying bang – so much for quiet exfiltration. The seven groundside goons raced around the corner to face us, but I was already ready. I slammed my foot on the accelerator and the car shot forward like a bullet. The soldiers ploughed around the corner shouting, with rifles raised. Then they had to dive out of the way as we drove past. A few gunshots rang out.

Then we were gone.

Racing through the almost-deserted London streets, we didn't stop for anything – red lights, the scant few cars on the road, or even one elderly pedestrian. The engine roared in the near-silent night. Eventually, we slowed and Ginny decided to ask: "Why is this needed? We could've apparated away?"

"You can trace it if you're quick enough. And if we walked away they could've tracked our footsteps."

So, the plan was to drive away before they could ascertain our location, then apparate away so they wouldn't be able to find the magical signature in time. Simples. Err, sort of.

The three SUVs that had accompanied the soldiers swung in behind us. Ginny was the first to notice. "They don't even have drivers."

What? I glanced behind to see for myself; sure enough, there were no drivers or occupants that could be seen through the slightly darkened windscreen. I pondered what feat of magic could do this. It went beyond simple Animation Charms; they manoeuvred around the streets with something akin to sapience.

_Golems._

A golem is a form of magical construction. The most basic ones were just pure matter enchanted into a bodily form with a modicum of intelligence. Others were a bit more complex; the form referred to as "clockwork" golems are built from actual mechanisms, like a watch or a robot and then enchanted. They were generally better because you can teach them to use features not available on a normal golem. You could conceal a gun, a blade or – if you know how to get them – weapons like rocket launchers or flamethrowers. You could even build in magic projectors if you're magically savvy.

These ones had a more unique trick though. Glowing lines began to race across the shiny black panels of each of the cars. The metal began to split apart, bending, rearranging. Cool metallic cogs and gears and other mechanisms became visible. Still in motion and near-perfect synchronisation, the SUVs reared on their back wheels like bulls; the front end bisected in two, revealing a head with four glowing eyes where the grill had once been. The surrounding bodywork rearranged itself into a pair of long, lanky arms and a chest. The two arms slammed down to the road with enough force to gouge the street and send chips flying. Then the rear end leapt up; it split apart similarly to form a pair of almost-feline legs. When the transformation finished, they resembled a strange robotic amalgamation of a gorilla and a big cat.

And they didn't slow down in the slightest.

_Now that is a cool trick._

The three golems continued to chase us through the London streets, crashing through parked cars and whatever else was in their way. Three lionesses chasing a frightened gazelle. Ginny watched them in slack-jawed shock.

"Don't just sit there!" I snapped. "Do something."

"What the hell do you expect me to do?"

"You've got a wand!"

"Yeah; somehow I doubt it'll help all that much!"

In all honesty I was inclined to agree with her. Nevertheless she rolled down the window and leaned out, taking aim with her wand. "_Reducto!"_

As I had expected, the Reductor Curse struck the lead golem in an explosion of blue light, but did nothing. Ginny looked at me. I shrugged back. _Keep casting._

Ginny sighed, and took aim again. _"Confringo! Expulso! Bombarda!"_

They chased us across London, absorbing any spell Ginny hurled at them with admirable robustness. Even when Ginny got creative and started to use magic to pull cars and vans in the way, they simply twisted around them or jumped, or smashed right through.

I saw the Tower Bridge in the distance, and the basic elements of an insane idea began to form in my mind. I grinned. This would be fun. The three golems continued after us – one car was battered aside, then another – and the lead one leapt into the air, over our car, twisting and flipping before landing in front of us. I slammed my foot down on the breaks and manage – just – to swerve around the monster; it bashed us with a flick of its wrist but we barely slipped past.

All the while, a small ferry had been gliding up the Thames towards us. It had yet to reach the Tower Bridge and my whole my revolved around us beating it there by the skin of our teeth. Too early and the golems would be able to follow us. Too late and we'd be screwed outright.

Decisions, decisions. Ginny seemed to realised what I was planning. 'Harry –"

"We'll be fine."

In preparation for the ferry the bridge began to close off. One of the golems threw a car at us; missing by a scant few centimetres. We kept going. The bridge grew before us and Ginny pulled herself in from the window. The pale white face betrayed her fear.

The bridge spilt, the two halves rising at symmetrical angles. The halves reached their apex and waited patiently for the ferry to pass underneath. Time for madness. I kept the foot pressed to the accelerator, and watched the needle rise. The three golemns were still chasing us.

We hit the gap. For the briefest instant, we were weightless, soaring over the Thames. The three golemns followed us. Then gravity took hold, and we began to dip. We didn't make the jump, and we plummeted downward. I simply laughed as Ginny screamed.

I had no idea what happened to the golemns, but we hit the Thames with a resounding force, sending monstrous ripples across the surface.

* * *

_Gotta have your fun, somehow._

* * *

With a swirl and a _crack_, we arrived in a deserted London street. The plan hadn't quite gone to plan, but the end result was largely satisfactory. They wouldn't be able to trace us. _I wonder if someone's ever apparated underwater before?_

Ginny yelped, gasped then looked around like a deer in headlights. Then shakily, she asked "What happened?"

"I clutched it." I said in amusement. "Turns out the car wasn't quite as aerodynamic as I thought…I had to apparate us away."

Ginny frowned, realising something. "This is Grimmauld Place."

"Yes it is."

"Why?"

"My new base of operations." I had had Kreacher gut the place in preparation for my return. I sighed. I guess it was make-or-break time. "And now you have a choice."

"Ah yes. The choice." Ginny said, amused.

"You saw tonight that there was more at work than just me. So here's the choice: come with me and find the heart of all this, and stay here and wonder for the rest of your life. It won't be safe, it won't be easy, but it could be the adventure of a lifetime!"

Ginny eyed me critically, deep in thought. I could almost see the gears turning in her head. Come with me and find out everything, or stay with her family with Quidditch and chips and stability. Her eyes steeled and a look of determination adorned her features.

"I'm coming."

I grinned. Inside there was a riptide of emotions – joy, excitement optimism amongst others.

"Then welcome to the team, Miss Weasley."

* * *

_**A/N: **__Bit short, but I decided it would be better to put SOMETHING out._


	5. The Hunt Begins

_**Disclaimer: **__Don't own it._

_**A/N: **__Guess who's back, back again…_

* * *

_**It's Never Over**_

_Chapter V – The Hunt Begins_

_"I couldn't keep you_

_But I'll keep my word_

_It's the most beautiful_

_Pain in the world."_

_~Scouting For Girls, 'Love How It Hurts'_

_AIMS HQ, United States of America, 09: 16 AM, July 10th, 2002_

Dean Notts looked across the table at the agents that had been selected for the mission. Victoria Gillan had been selected to lead the operation due to personal skill, and an unwavering loyalty to AIMS. She would see the mission through. He picked up the file and slid it across the glass table towards the rough-looking woman. She picked it up and leafed through it intently. Eventually she looked up across the table.

"Harry Potter is the target?" She asked.

"Correct" Notts confirmed. "We have already made arrangements. The target will be taken into police custody in Britain, and then extradited to America. Your job will be to escort him to our custody, or failing that, kill him."

"I understand." Victoria said simply.

Notts nodded. "Good. Target is designated Tier Red. Do what is necessary."

Victoria hesitated for a second, before nodding and standing up, before walking out briskly. Notts chuckled and leaned back into his chair, idly scratching the tattoo on his wrist: that of a sphere, held in the grip of a skeletal hand.

* * *

_Chicago, United States of America, 10:37 AM, July 10__th__, 2002_

Sam rapped the door for a third time. She knew he lived here, in this block of apartments. She could even see the light was on, underneath the gap of the door. So why wasn't he answering? Sam huffed. She'd had to bluff her way out of HQ, then figure out where to go for help. And she had decided to come here, for an old friend.

After an age, she could hear the sound of a dozen locking mechanisms, and the door creaked open a sliver. "What the hell are you doin' here?"

"I need help, Max. It's big."

A moment of hesitation, a sigh, and then the door opened fully, albeit with slow reluctance. Max White was a dark-skinned man in his early-thirties, thick-set with muscle and had a scar tracing over the left side of his mouth. Former AIMS agent, he had left the service after a bad mission had resulted in three months of hospital stay and compromised his physical ability. And while he had healed, his injuries had left him unable to be as good as he once was and he had little willingness to be handcuffed to a desk job. He now worked as a consultant detective, specialising in paranormal cases that the normal police lacked the experience for.

"What is it, Sam?"

She took this as a sign of admittance and stepped inside. His apartment was very spartan, with few furnishings. She was well aware though, that there was a plethora of concealed weaponry in the rooms. On display, there was a hunting rifle on the wall, a glass cabinet held an antique revolver. She also knew there was a pistol stuck to the underside of the table and knives down the cushions of the sofa. Placing her handbag, she began to pull out files she had liberated while leaving AIMS.

"There was an incident at AIMS." She said by way of explanation. "All the computers went down and displayed a single word: _fallen_."

An instant look of understanding blossomed on his face. "Right."

"But the investigation's been shut down completely, classified Clandestine. They didn't even try."

"Sam…"

"Something big is going on, Max!"

"Sam." Max said curtly. She shut up. "I know why you're so attached to the idea of the Fallen, but you can't just drop everything to investigate it."

"Says the maverick agent."

Max shook his head. "There's a difference between being a traitor and getting the job done. The fact that you're telling me about a Clandestine-rated subject means you've already left, am I right?"

Sam winced. "Yeah."

Max sighed, obviously weighing up the options. Eventually: "To hell with it. What've you got?"

Sam grinned and tossed him a file. "I managed to pull the mission files for the investigation. They're ordering the capture of a Tier Red individual called Harry Potter."

"Wasn't he the kid that took down that English magi-terrorist? Voldotron or something?"

"Yeah. I don't know why they want him, but he must be connected. I had him flagged already as a potential asset, but the fact AIMS is trying to get him means he must have a connection somehow."

"And you think finding him will give you a lead?" Max guessed.

"Exactly!" Sam smiled. He rolled his eyes. "But they're already in position to pick him up. So…"

"We need to get to him." Max stated. "Remind me why you're not with AIMS?"

Sam shifted uneasily. "Well, to tell the truth…I think they've been compromised."

Max cocked an eyebrow. "How?"

"Software incidents are my department's area of expertise, but they haven't even approached us. They haven't done anything procedure dictates. This type of incident should be responded to with an internal trace and personnel interrogation to find a potential leak. But everything the higher-ups have done so far…it's like they _knew. _Plus, they've revoked my login, taken my hard drive. "

"Sounds pretty suspicious, to be fair." Max admitted.

Sam sighed. "Will you help me? I'll owe you big time."

Max considered. "Screw it, what's the plan?"

* * *

_On the road again…_

* * *

_Grimmauld Place, London, United Kingdom, 12:05 PM July 12__th__ 2002_

"Do we really need all this stuff?" Ginny asked dubiously. We were in the living room of Number 12. Three Hogwarts-style trunks were open, with various supplies and equipment lying around the room in piles. One trunk was to store food, another to store many books, bits, bobs and whatever equipment I had deemed necessary. The final one was to store clothes. All three were covered in a mass of runes and enchanted with spells; magical protections, anti-access wards, and undetectable expansion charms.

"Motto of the cub scouts: _be prepared_." I said with amusement. Don't eyeball with your six-shooter, always wear clean underwear and matching socks. That sort of thing. It never hurt to plan for every contingency, even more so considering we didn't have a clue where this uknown adventure would take us.

"Yeah, but how are we meant to carry them? The extension charms mean we can't shrink them." She pointed out, "I've argued with Hermione about that. She says you can't shrink stuff with expansion charms because when you shrink it you change the external dimensions, which destabilises the internal ones."

"You just need to change how your shrinking charm works, is all." I explained in amusement.

"How?"

I slipped into elderly professor mode: "Well, your bog-standard shrinker – y'know, _Reducio_, - works by compressing the molecules together then using a magic field to keep the shape stable. I've found one which instead holds the whole object in a compression field; instead of individual molecules being compressed, the whole thing is compressed in space. Very spacey-wacey, but meh. It works."

"Right…"

I smiled. It was a nifty little piece of magic I had picked up in southern Japan. I was going to shrink all the trunks and keep them in the little moleskin pouch Hagrid had given me for my seventeenth birthday; it had since gotten a bit of an upgrade, with internal expansion charms and protective enchantments of their own. To be honest, pretty much everything I owned was bigger on the inside. Made life easier, unless you forgot which pair of trousers you left your wand in.

Which hasn't happened to me. At all. Not ever.

I pushed the lid down on one of the trunks and produced my trusty wand from my pocket. A flick, a swish and a lazy mention of _"Adstringo."_, and the trunk grew smaller to the approximate size of a matchbox. "See? No destabilisation. It's like magic!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Okay, you win."

I chuckled and set about shrinking the other two. The plan for the day was to take a stroll to Diagon Alley, get some money out for the days ahead, then go talk to the lovely Luna Lovegood. If we were in luck, one of her many impossible theories would pertain to the Fallen. Who knows, we had their symbol.

A few hours later, we were just a stone's throw away from Ottery St. Catchpole, strolling up the path to the residence of the Lovegoods. The father, Xenophilius was out on a trip to Sweden, leaving her daughter with husband-to-be Rolf Scammander. The place had been restored after my ill-fated visit there four years ago, seeking answers for our quest to find a madman's Horcruxes and mythologised Deathly Hallows. I bore the man no ill will; It wasn't his fault the Death Eaters had stolen Luna away to Azkaban. When I had visited with Ron and Hermione, Xeno had sold us out to the Death Eaters; and while we escaped, the Death Eaters had left his home in ruins.

"I still can't believe what you're wearing." Ginny said.

I looked down at my awesome attire with a look of hurt. "Why, what's wrong with it?"

I was wearing a dark green greatcoat which came to about my knees, shirt, jeans and trainers. Absolutely nothing wrong with it.

"You're wearing a bloody Stetson!"

Oh. "And?"

Ginny simply rolled her eyes, before her hand darted out and snatched the hat from atop my head. I decided to let it slide – for now – and simply turned my attention to the front door, which bore an old brass knocker in the shape of an eagle. I rap it three times, glance back at Ginny, and wait patiently. After a minute, the door opened to reveal the lovely lady Luna. A bit taller, and her features had lost a fraction of their childhood, but she was still pretty much as remembered. Even her voice hadn't changed.

"Hello Harry, Ginny." She greeted cheerfully, "The mind nymphs told me you would visit."

I chuckled. "They're sneaky, to be sure. Found any Snorkacks yet?"

Luna sighed. "It seems that they don't exist."

I frowned. "You sure?"

Luna smiled sadly and nodded. Ginny decided to step in and deflect the situation. "How's Rolf?"

"He's good. We're actually going to Russia next week to find some Heliopaths."

Ginny nodded with a smile. I decided we needed to cut to the chase, time's a wasting and all that.

"Luna, what do you know about the Fallen?"

Five minutes later we were in the kitchen settling down to cups of tea. Luna sat down with us at the table and tried to decide where to begin. "The Fallen are…strange." She began at last. "It's believed that they're some sort of secret society that directs the course of human history."

What we already knew, but still. "Go on."

"The leading theory is that they control the world to preserve it; they believe that if left to their own devices it'll destroy itself."

Interesting. Good hearted masterminds. "How can they tell what'll happen?"

"It's believed that they follow what they call the Plan. Some sort of document, or map. It shows them the path they're to push the world down. The one which is best for the world."

Except now they plan to step out from the shadows, and since the many legends agreed that they would only do so to destory the world, I wasn't willing to let them go through with it. Even with good intents, whatever they planned to do would only spell disaster, I felt with surety. The question was what they planned to do, who planned to do it, and when. If we could get the first breadcrumb, I could begin to make sense of it all, follow the yellow-brick road, so to speak.

"Anything else?" I asked hopefully.

Luna shook her head negatively. Damn. Oh well. We had a few more pieces at least. The Plan Luna mentioned would obviously be the one Jamie had been talking about. The one I stood apart from. Did that mean they couldn't predict what I was doing or something? More questions. I glanced towards Ginny, who had simply opted to listen patiently as Luna recited her lore. "Any ideas, Red?"

She shook her head. "What we really need is a name or something. Something we can follow up. Knowing what they are only helps as far as making us paranoid that we don't know who's an enemy."

"Yeah." I turned to Luna, "Don't suppose you know any of its members?"

"Sorry." She replied apologetically. "Do you intend to find them?"

"Something like that." I told her, "We don't really know what's happening yet, but we know that the Fallen are involved somehow."

"Good luck." Luna offered.

Ginny answered. "We're probably gonna need it."

* * *

_Patience, young grasshoppa._

* * *

Ginny and I made our way up the London street, on the way to Piccadilly. While the visit to Luna's hadn't given us anything majorly concrete to work on, it had given us food for thought. We knew they had a Plan – capital 'P' – and that I was a threat to it somehow. Would that turn out to be a blessing or a curse though?

"So where are we going?" Ginny asked.

"Lovely little café a few corners away." I shrugged. We passed a pair of policemen, one of which was muttering something into his radio.

"Why not Grimmauld? Kreacher's food is fine." Ginny pointed out.

"True." I said, "Just fancy something different for a change."

"Fair enough." Ginny conceded.

Fifteen minutes later, we were in a café waiting to be served. Despite it being fairly busy, it wasn't long before a bored-looking woman came over to take our orders. I decided to get fish and chips and Ginny decided to try the steak pie.

As we waited, it occurred to me that despite being back for a few days, I hadn't really tried to learn what had become of everyone. Should probably ask.

"So, how's the family?" I began, "Occurs to me that I've yet to ask. Funny how time flies when you're hunting secret societies."

Ginny cocked an eyebrow. "Well…mum and dad are same as always. George's doing good with the joke shop; and he's seeing Angelina. Bill and Fleur are expecting. Percy eloped with Penelope Clearwater…"

"Sounds like everyone's moved on." I noted.

"We've had four years." Ginny stated, "Don't do that."

I frowned. "Do what?"

"You're acting like it happened yesterday. Like you've never moved on."

I probably hadn't, to be honest. Just running as fast as possible, hoping it wouldn't catch up. "Just thought I find out, since I don't plan on running off again anytime soon."

Something inside Ginny seemed to snap. "You can't just pick up after a year like nothing's happened! Any normal person knows that-"

"But I'm _not _normal!" I protested simply, "I've never had that luxury."

"I doubt it was that bad." Ginny scoffed.

"My parents died when I was one, and I was left with a goddamn prophecy." I snarled, noting that we were beginning to get looks, "I got sent to the Dursley's for the next ten years. I had to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. And every day, I'd have to cook, and clean and do everything else for them. If I didn't, I got no food, or I got beaten. And that's _before _I even got to Hogwarts. First year; I had to KILL Quirrel. No one ever asked if I was alright. Second year; I get vilified by the entire school, and then have to fight a fifty-foot snake –"

"I suffered that year too!" Ginny hissed. "I was the one the Diary tried feed from."

"Yeah, you did." I acknowledged, "But you had your family to lean on. I did not. And after all that was said and done, I got packed off to the Dursley's once more. The year after that, I had to compete in a Tournament I didn't give a damn about, and get vilified by the school again. I nearly died three times. Then I had to watch Cedric Diggory die. Then I had to watch Voldemort return. _Then _I had to duel him. I hadn't even hit fifteen."

Ginny shifted uneasily. I guessed that I was starting to get through. "I'm sorry." She admitted after an age.

I wasn't done yet. "Fifth year, I get my own godfather killed because I was an idiot, because I wasn't smart enough, wasn't good enough. Sixth-year: I lost the closest thing I had to a grandfather, and get left with the responsibility of stopping Voldemort. My best friends had to risk everything for me time and time again."

I paused for breath. "You lost a brother and a lot of friends. So did I. But once again, you had people you could turn to for solace I didn't. I had to go away and deal with it all myself."

I guess you could say it's like when you break a bone, and the healers or the doctors say it has to be set properly or it won't heal. Sums me up nicely.

I continued again. "For the last four years, I've been miserable; I've never been able to stop moving, or settle down, or even just stop to think. Not even for a second. 'Cause there's always someone else. Someone who needs saved, or some who has a problem, and I'm the only one who can fix it. Everyone turns to me and I have to take care of everything. And no one's ever asked if it's what I wanted."

I realised that my eyes were turning red and beginning to tear up. My rant was reaching its climax.

"So I'm sorry, Ginerva." I snarled. "I'm sorry that for once in my life, I wished I could be selfish and human and normal and be forgiven for trying to do the right thing. But no, Harry bloody Potter doesn't get that. He doesn't get to make mistakes; he just gets to fix everyone else's."

Wow. I thought I had passed my whiny-bitch phase in fifth-year.

Ginny had been stunned into silence. She opened her mouth, closed it, then seemed to deflate. I sighed then buried my head in my hands. A lot of bad thoughts had just resurfaced in the last few minutes. A lot of people were staring now. Part of me wished I had put up a few spells to ensure our privacy. Oh well. I glanced outside of the window.

"I don't think we're going to get dessert, by the way."

Ginny finally spoke, perplexed. "Why?"

"Well, I'm not sure; but there's a truck-full of armed police outside aiming their guns at us."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Bit short, bit late, but better than nothing, right?_


	6. Extradition

_**Disclaimer: **__Don't own it. SOPA will eat me if I do._

_**A/N: **__Again, this is far shorter than what I hoped for, but real life concerns and other writing interests have forced my hand._

* * *

_**It's Never Over**_

_Chapter VI – Extradition_

_Too close for missiles, I'm switching to guns._

_~ Top Gun_

* * *

**[C:] OPEN Email File.  
[I:] File Type: Word Document  
[I:] Sender: Fallen Cell TEMPLAR, 12:13 EST 09/06/2002  
[I:] Sent over secure channel GAMMA**

_We've successfully recovered a Piece of Atlantis. Full properties unknown, but reacts to mental activity when held. Initial analysis pegs it at class 2. Full report pending._

**[C:] CLOSE File.**

* * *

_London, United Kingdom, 19:18 PM July 12__th__ 2002_

Y'know, this isn't the first time I've been to jail. Three years ago I was arrested in France; got caught up in some sort of magical arms trade. Then there was that time in a Russian gulag after pissing off a cult of Rasputin. And that one time with necromancer cult in Egypt. Wrong place at the wrong time, sums me up in a heartbeat.

Now I was in some London jail with Ginny sitting across from me. We were both cuffed, and Ginny's pockets had been divested of all contents including her wand. They couldn't find anything in mine, funnily enough. The wonders of space-relativistic magic, as it were. We didn't bother to pput up a fight, and the whole arrest had proceeded easily enough. The other patrons of the café had looked on in shocked fear as the armed guards read their charges – something about crimes against the government and conspiracy to commit terrorism. They had searched the two of us before slapping on the cuffs and bunging us into the back of the van before taking us to this jail – apparently an intermediate location – and shoving us into the bland drab cell with a solid steel door and a tiny barred window. I wasn't entirely sure who the armed gunmen were. The uniform was wrong for general armed response units, so my money was on secret service. Someone had a lot of pull in her majesty's government.

Ginny had managed to take the whole thing in stride. At the moment she sat across the cell from me, examining her nails with an air of bored indifference. "Remind me again why we're not just breaking out?"

I smiled in amusement. Strangely, no electronic or magical bugs in the cell. We were unmonitored. "Because we're not going to."

"Why though?" She said looking up, "We might have to leave our wands but we can apparate out of here in a flash."

"Your wand." I corrected mildly, "Still got mine. And how better to find the Fallen than to spring their trap?"

"We're using ourselves as bait." Ginny surmised, "Is that a good idea? We don't know what they want with us. They might just kill us before we can do anything."

"True." I conceded reluctantly. She had nailed the flaw in my plan. "But I don't think so. They used the muggle government's resources to bring us in. That means they're trying to stop us finding out about them until they want us to. If they wanted us dead outright, they'd have arranged an accident in the café or sent more of those magical mercenaries to take us out."

"I suppose." Ginny grumbled, "Still don't think this is a good idea."

"It isn't." I snort, "Just the fastest one."

Ginny nodded in acceptance, "Still don't like waiting."

"Neither do I." I admitted, "But still. I've heard so many rumours about secret societies, so many legends and half-spun myths we wouldn't be able to pull fact from the fiction in a suitable time-frame."

That at least, was true. The fact of the Fallen had become so diffused and diluted over the centuries that you could spend years chasing tales and not come any closer to the truth. The Illuminati, the Templars, the Masons; so many supposed names. How many referred to the Fallen? Historians even argued how the name "Fallen" came about. Some said it came from an old wizard saying: _The strong have fallen from ignorance, and rise above the weak._ In short, ignorance was a pedestal for the weak to stand on, and in "falling" from it, one becomes enlightened.

No one knew who a Fallen operative was, unless you were one of them. You pass them in the street, talk to them at work. And you never, ever know that they serve a higher cause, a belief in a new world order. They controlled the governments, the industries, the economies. How many products in a normal home were from a Fallen company? God only knew. There was also rumours that the Fallen tried to increase their power by obtaining artefacts of magical value and power. Pieces of Atlantis left in the world. Of Old magic far beyond the poor attempts we use today. The Atlanteans held an understanding and command of magic like no other race before them, and the Fallen knew that. So they sought out the few remaining artefacts in the hopes of using them to further their plans. No one could get the city itself though. I had seen to that a little over a year ago. Atlantis had burned to nothing but ashes and dust.

Hmm. Maybe that was why they were so interested. The last Guardian-Knight of High Atlantis, I in thought, I began to pat down my pockets, searching for something to eat or drink. I managed to find a bag of jelly babies and my awesome little thermos along with a pair of mugs.

"Something to drink?" I offered, holding up the flask.

"What's in it?" Ginny asked in amusement.

"It's magic so…" I checked, "Coffee, tea, Coca-cola, lemonade, butterbeer and strawberry milkshake. Huh. Thought I had Irn Bru as well."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Thought you'd have polyjuice on tap or something."

"That's my other flask." I chuckle, "What do you want?"

"Could do with a tea." Ginny laughed.

"One tea it is." I laugh, passing her a cup of hot steaming tea. The wonders of magic. The flask never ran out, always kept the liquids at perfect temperature. I also managed to turn up a packet of in-date jammy dodgers, so we tucked into them with our cups of tea. Because that's what you do in a jail cell.

Ginny swallowed a mouthful of biscuit and jam and asked: "So what've you been doing for the last four years?"

I shrugged. "This and that. Knocking around, travelling. Been everywhere me. America, China, everywhere."

"Sounds fun." Ginny said.

"Not as much as you would think." I mutter. "It's more fun with someone at your side."

Ginny's expression turned to a frown. "You were alone all that time?"

"Well, I didn't stay still long enough to pick up friends." I hedged evasively. "And the one's I did got killed. Easier to travel alone."

"Were you happy at all?"

"Course I was." I smirk, "I've been to places you can't believe."

"What, the moon?" Ginny laughed.

"Well, now that you mention it…" I laugh with a wink.

There was a grating sound and the metal door swung open to reveal a sharply-dressed woman. She held an aggressive air, one which clearly said not to mess with her. Black hair was pulled back into a ponytail and sharp blue eyes appraised Ginny and myself.

"Who're you?" Ginny asked, taking a sip of tea. If the newcomers were surprised by the fact we had tea, they didn't show it.

"That, is none of your concern." She snapped, a thick American accent in her voice. "You are to be extradited to the United States for interrogation."

"Interesting." I say to no one in particular. "We were arrested for crimes against the British government and yet the investigation is being carried out by the Americans. Very interesting."

I turn my gaze toward the women. "Do you know why you're extraditing us, Agent Gillan?"

"How do you know my name?" She asked, her icy demeanour shaken.

"Well…" I take on an air of amusement, "I can read _Victoria Gillan_ on your shirt label. The lack of a ring implies you're not married, and the lack of any sort of tan line on your fingers suggests you never have been, therefore Miss Gillan. But since you have a clearly ruthless and cynical disposition as shown by your functional attire and hairstyle along with a lack of any sort of jewellery coupled with the fact you're here to extradite us implies you work with some sort of intelligence agency and have little in the way of a social life, and the gun means you're a field agent. My first thought would be CIA, but the outline of your holstered pistol isn't CIA-standard, and you wouldn't have been sent to get me specifically unless you knew about what I am. That leaves AIMS, the American Institute for Magical Supervision."

I threw a wink at Ginny. "Am I right?"

Gillan's icy demeanour returned and she regained her composure. "Very astute, Mister Potter."

"Why thank you." My smile slides of my face to be replaced by a look of grave seriousness. "The fact you ignored my question means you don't know why, which, luckily for you means you're just an inconvenience and not an enemy."

Gillan sneered. "Mister Potter, I can assure you that you have no way of escaping."

I drain the rest of my cup and toss it down on the bunk, and held my wrists out expectantly. "Whatever you say dear. C'mon then, let's go to America already."

* * *

**[C:] OPEN Email File.  
[I:] File Type: Word Document  
[I:] Sender: OVERLORD, 13:49 EST 10/06/2002  
[I:] Sent over secure channel GAMMA**

_Good work. See to it that it is delivered safely._

**[C:] CLOSE File.**

* * *

It turns out that for our extradition, AIMS had bought every seat on a flight to an American airport, although for obvious reasons, they didn't reveal which one. We stood on the tarmac waiting with a police escort as the final arrangements were made.

"I wish I could've at least told Mum before getting dragged halfway across the world." Ginny grumbled, scratching her wrists where the handcuffs dug in.

"Sorry." I replied quietly, "We'll send a letter out or something when we land."

"No talking!" One of the policemen barked. We fell silent and I offered Ginny an encouraging smile. Come to think of it, this would've been the first time she'd been out of the country since the Weasley's visited Egypt. Vaguely, I noted that Gillan had Ginny's wand, sealed in a plastic bag. Good. That meant we wouldn't have to find her another one.

Gillan marched over. "Alright, we're taking off shortly. Get on board."

"That thing actually flies?" Ginny asked dubiously – it would be her first time on an aeroplane. "It's a heap of metal."

"Muggle technology." I shrugged, "It'll be fine. C'mon."

We were pushed up the steps onto the plane, and were sat together in the first class section. The normal flight crew and attendants were confused and bewildered, but didn't ask any questions. Gillan sat herself three rows away and busied herself in a clunky black laptop. Armed guards in sharp suits with earpieces were spread out, some at the doors and others sat in various seats. Attractive hostesses indicated the exits as the pilot drummed out the usual pre-flight speech over the speakers and we were told to fasten our seatbelts. Ten minutes later we were in the air, flying towards America.

Ginny sat beside me, examining her hands thoughtfully. "Harry."

"Yeah?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "I just wanted to say sorry. For not realising how hard it's been for you."

I cock an eyebrow at her and give a bemused smile. "It's fine."

"That's it?" She seemed surprised, "Just like that?"

I shrugged. "I hate drawing crap out."

"Suspect's will remain silent." Gillan's voice drawled lazily. We stopped talking again and we both fell into our own trains of thought.

So AIMS had been infiltrated by the Fallen. Not that I found that surprising. Why AIMS though? Why America? He supposed that AIMS was one of the few organisations that held the capability of dealing with magic, but operated mainly in the muggle world, meaning that international relations were better developed and less backward than in the magical world. Extradition would be easier. Makes sense. It was also the only government agency with technomancy weapons. All magical government agencies were prohibited from developing technomantic weapons as per the 1918 Technomancy and Weapons Act as set down by the International Confederation of Wizards. Since AIMS didn't answer to the American ministry, that restriction didn't apply, and they held several anti-wizard weapons at their disposal, mainly in the form of firearms.

I tried to figure out the escape plan. Five guards in here, plus Gillan. Easy. The problem was that if we took control now, the Fallen would be there to kill us wherever we landed. On landing we would have a very small window to stage an escape, but in all likelihood there would be Fallen operatives swarming all over the place, ready to step in. I had played their game as far as I needed to; now that I knew AIMS was involved we could investigate from the outside. We needed to change the rules of the game, and that meant not being captive. The question was how. I wasn't willing to try apparating us out. I had no idea how far from land we were and wasn't willing to try side-along apparition over such a potential distance.

Hours passed.

Ginny fell asleep. The trolley came and went, and we weren't allowed anything save for a tiny cup of water. I kept running through ideas of escape in my head. Wait until we were about to land then apparate out? Maybe. High potential of being tracked though. Simply fighting out of the airport was an option, but the Statute of Secrecy would work against us.

Eventually, I decided to turn my attention back to Gillan. "Agent, may I ask a question?"

Victoria looked up in annoyance. "No."

"Not even just a little one?"

"No."

Hmph. Misery-guts.

Another two hours passed uneventfully. Ginny woke up. We still couldn't talk. Part of me reflected on how well she seemed to be taking this. Far too well, to be honest. Something would snap in the future when all this caught up to her.

Another hour passed, and the pilot's voice sounded over the speakers. We would be landing in half-an-hour. Gillan decided to address us. "When we land, " She explained, "You will be taken into AIMS custody and you will be detained until such time as AIMS deems necessary."

"Still doesn't explain why though." Ginny pointed out. "Why are we in custody?"

"I do not know." Gillan said with disinterest. "I was simply instructed to oversee your extradition."

Which meant that someone was playing those extradition treaties without official authorities. Pulling strings. Definitely Fallen. Question was why? They obviously wanted something.

A sudden realisation crept into my head. There were two more people on this plane than there was meant to be. Innocuously as possible I shifted into mage sense and studied the plane. Two in the cargo hold. Interesting. Very interesting. No way could it be a coincidence so that meant the two stowaways were a part of this whole conspiracy. Would they be friend or foe though?

* * *

**[C:] OPEN Email File.  
[I:] File Type: Word Document  
[I:] Sender: Fallen Cell TEMPLAR, 11:39 EST 15/06/2002  
[I:] Sent over secure channel GAMMA**

_Overlord, a situation has arisen. One of our team has gone AWOL with the PoA. We're devoting all resources to tracking them down but it won't be easy._

**[C:] CLOSE File.**

* * *

Max was annoyed. "Remind me why we couldn't just wait at the airport and bust him out then?"

"Because the Fallen could be waiting there. We have to divert the plane." Same answered.

The two had found out how AIMS planned to bring in Potter and so had gotten a flight to Heathrow and then opted to sneak aboard the plane Gillan would be using to extradite him to America. They were hidden in the cargo hold, which thankfully no one had checked after the initial sweep for bugs and stowaways.

Max pulled out his gun and thumbed the magazine release. He checked the magazine and found that it was full and slid it back in with a satisfying _snick_. The AIMS agents would be armed with the T7 pistols, but there was little they could do to stop the flight of a bullet. He pulled out a silencer and screwed it onto the barrel. Sam had a gun too, but made no effort to check, being unfamiliar with firearms outside of the basic training at AIMS.

"We doing this then?" Max asked.

Shakily, Sam nodded. "Yeah."

If Max had to call on any faults in the plan, it would be Sam's lack of combat experience. Hopefully, she would try to keep her head down. Hopefully.

"Let's roll then."

* * *

**[C:] OPEN Email File.  
[I:] File Type: Word Document  
[I:] Sender: OVERLORD, 11:50 EST 15/06/2002  
[I:] Sent over secure channel GAMMA**

_I must admit I am disappointed. It is in your best interests that you recover that artefact, or you may find yourself in a grave predicament._

**[C:] CLOSE File.**

* * *

Quietly as I could so that the agents wouldn't notice I whispered under my breath to Ginny. "There's two other people on this plane."

"How do you know?" Came a similarly whispered response.

"Magic."

"Good or bad?"

"Can't say yet." I admitted, "But at any rate it gives us our window. Be ready."

"What do you-" Ginny never got to finish her sentence as the doors leading to second-class were kicked open. I sprang into action. With a thought and a flick, a wand was in my hand. The Elder Wand, whole and anew despite having once been snapped in two. The handcuffs fell off and I turned my attention to the guards.

The newcomer was a dark-skinned man, clad in a suit similar to the agents. Ex-AIMS perhaps? He raised a normal muggle pistol and fired on one of the guards, the gunshot ringing out hard as he collapsed in his seat. I ducked down as the other agents sprang into action, drawing their own pistols. The newcomer ducked back behind the door as jets of light – magic bullets in effect- hit air where he had once been. I managed to unlock Ginny's handcuffs before they noticed and turned their weapons on us.

"_Protego!_" I slashed my arm across to deflect the blasts aimed at myself and Ginny, before summoning Ginny's wand which she managed to catch easily enough.

The dark-skinned man dove through the doorway and slid into cover behind a row of seats. A woman took his place at the door, but screamed and dived to the side as more magic rounds flew past. The idiots were going to blow a hole in the side of the plane at this rate. I deflected another shot by Gillan and nailed her with a stunner. After that, all hell broke loose. Flashes of light, gunshots and yells as the AIMS agents fell one by one. Somehow the attendants got caught up in the fight and were knocked unconscious.

Within a minute, all the AIMS agents were down, dead or unconscious.

"Nice hex there, Ginny."

"Thanks."

I turned my attention to the two stowaways. "Now, who the hell are you two and how could you possibly think it was a good idea to start a gunfight on a plane?"

The man scowled. "Y'know, a 'thank you' is appropriate when someone saves your ass."

"Maybe." I shrugged, "Don't care. Names?"

The woman stepped forward. Blond hair, blue eyes. Innocent eyes. She wasn't battle-hardened like the man was. "I'm Samantha. Samantha Bond." She gestured to the man. "This is Max White."

"I'm guessing you know who I am. And this is Ginny." I gestured to the redhead, "Now, do either of you know how to fly a plane?"

Max and Samantha frowned. "No, why?"

"'Cause one of you spanners managed to nail the pilots." I jabbed my wand towards the cockpit's doors, where sure enough several smoking holes had been burned into the door. It had swung open, revealing two dead or unconscious pilots, slumped over the controls.

"Oh shit." Max hissed.

"So yeah, well done." I snapped. "Now, go secure whoever's still alive."

Nodding meekly, the two set about the task I had assigned without question. I turned towards the cockpit and sighed. This would be interesting, to say the least. "Ginny, you're with me."

"What're we doing?"

I gave a laugh that hid nerves that had erupted with disconcerting swiftness.

"We're gonna fly the plane."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Read, review and all the rest._

_Peace._


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